The Ship of Dreams
by Miss Grace O'Malley
Summary: The Ship of Dreams was daunting. Daunting in the manner that it meant that she was leaving everything behind while embarking on what she hoped would be her dreams. (Titanic AU)


**It's been stuck in my head for a few weeks and finally needed to get out.**

 **Lots of dialogue is taken directly from the script, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

 **The Ship of Dreams**

 _April 10, 1912 – Southampton, England_

When the car rolled to a stop at the docks, Darcy looked out the window and felt a sigh leave her chest. The ship was huge, much bigger than she had anticipated and it made her antsy. Spending an entire week with the man that she was forced into an engagement with sounded like pure torture. And, the arranger of said engagement, her _mother_.

"Honestly, Brock, if you weren't booking everything last instant, we could have gone through the terminal instead of running along the dock like some squalid immigrant family," her mother sniffed, staring disdainfully at the people trying to gawk at the ship.

It wasn't that Brock Rumlow was an ugly man. Not at all. In fact, he was quite handsome, but completely arrogant and idiotic that it left Darcy wanting to wring his wealthy neck most of the time. He was quite tall, with perfectly groomed dark hair and darkish eyes and a smile that left most girls weak kneed and drooling. But Darcy had never pictured herself married at such a young age. Granted, most of her friends back home in Philadelphia were already married with a child or two, but there was so much to see, so much to explore.

"All part of my charm, Ruth. At any rate, it was my darling fiancée's beauty rituals which made us late." Brock glanced at his pocket watch and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly.

"You told me to change," Darcy sassed as proper as she could.

"I couldn't let you wear black on sailing day, sweetpea. It's bad luck."

"I felt like black."

Ignoring her words, Brock escorted the motley trio to the wooden planks to board the ship before muttering, "And here I've pulled every string I could to book us on the grandest ship in history, in her most luxurious suites and you act as if you're going to your execution."

The Ship of Dreams was daunting. Daunting in the manner that it meant that she was leaving everything behind while embarking on what she hoped would be her dreams. But she didn't dream of white dresses and dozens of roses. Nor did she dream about becoming a steel tycoon's pretty little trophy wife. It was like she was screaming and no one could hear her, cast in chains and being dragged away to her new fate.

"Come along, sweetpea. They won't hold the ship for you to sulk about."

* * *

The sound of a whistle sailed through the air and Steve narrowed his eyes at the cards in his hand. Cigarette smoke irritated his nose and he knew eventually that the two men across from him would realize that he was much better at the game than he was letting on.

His best guy sat next to him, his blue eyes surveying his own cards with quick fascination. The other men exchanged a few words in a language that neither could understand, but the sentiment was there; they were _worried_.

They had a right to be.

On the table between them, intermixed with the pints of beer, were two third class tickets for the _RMS Titanic_. Tickets that much have cost a fortune.

"The moment of truth, boys." Steve pulled his face into a look of sheepishness and glanced at the other players. Three sets of cards went down and he glanced at each one. "Let's see…Bucky's got _niente_. Olaf, you've got squat. Sven, uh oh…two pair…hmm…sorry, Buck."

The dark-haired man's eyes widened. "What? Sorry? What do you got? Dammit, punk – "

"Sorry, 'cause you're not gonna be seeing that pretty dame in Paris any time soon." With a grin, he slapped a full house down on the table, nearly flattening the worn cards with the force of it. "'Cause you're goin' back to America! Full house, boys!"

Yelling erupted at the table and Steve nearly breathed a sigh of relief when, instead of getting sucker punched by the man across the table, the other man was on the receiving end of the fist.

"Not in my pub!" The barkeeper yelled from behind the counter.

"We're goin' to America!" Steve and Bucky yelled in unison, raking the money and tickets into a worn rucksack.

"No, mate," the barkeeper said. When had he got behind them? "Titanic is. In five minutes."

Steve jumped up like the seat of his pants were on fire, rucksack in hand. "Shit! Come on, Buck! Come on!" When they made it to the door, he turned around and pulled off the threadbare hat on top of his head. "It's been grand!"

Their shabby shoes beat against the cobblestone of the streets as they raced towards the ship that was preparing to leave for their home. It had been almost three years since either of them had seen the gorgeous – albeit frozen – home of theirs. Wisconsin wasn't the warmest place in the world and they could definitely attest to that seeing as they'd spent the last three years traipsing around the globe and trying to find what they were looking for.

But they hadn't quite managed to find anything.

Paris was a stop on their list only because they had some of the best art schools around and Steve, well, Steve was an artist. But Paris had laughed in his face and sent him packing. Not that it discouraged him. The blond spent more time drawing and selling his work on the busy Parisian streets than he thought possible. It even led to a very strange obsession with a reputable prostitute's hands.

"Shit, punk, they're leavin'!"

Sure enough, the ship was getting ready to leave dock and Steve yelled out, "Wait! We're passengers!" His face was beet red from running and he was panting up a storm as he waved the tickets towards the crew.

The man that was getting ready to close the door looked at the pair warily. "Have you been through the inspection queue?"

Steve nodded hastily. "Of course! Anyway, we don't have lice, we're Americans."

"Right," the man gritted out. "Come aboard."

* * *

 _April 12, 1912 – Cherbourg Harbor, France_

Darcy nearly fell asleep while listening to the boorish talk about the ship. Yes, it would be marvelous to be able to join in and have an opinion, but when were women allowed to do that?

"Well, I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Ismay's. He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in its appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is, willed into solid reality."

"Why're ships always bein' called 'she'?"

Darcy found that she liked Molly Brown. Her brashness, her spunk. Watching the men stutter at her words, the brunette thought it would be a lovely parlor trick to master.

In an attempt to calm her frayed nerves – sailing was _not_ her thing – she lit a cigarette and delicately puffed at it while her mother gave her a look of pure scorn.

"You know I don't like that, Darcy."

Brock sighed and plucked the cigarette from her hand, snubbing it out like all of Darcy's hopes and dreams. "She knows." Glancing at the waiter, he took the pleasure of ordering the lamb for them both, ignoring how she tried to cut in. When the waiter was gone, Brock plastered on his best smile and asked, "You like lamb, don't you, sweetpea?"

In fact, Darcy was allergic to lamb. And beef. Not that he ever really cared about that.

"You gonna cut her meat for her, too, there, Brock?" Molly asked, giving them a smirk. With a roll of her eyes, she looked back at Mr. Ismay. "Hey, who came up with the name 'Titanic' anyway?"

"I did," he answered, "I wanted to convey sheer size. And size means stability and safety – "

"Do you know of Dr. Freud?" Darcy asked innocently. "His ideas about the male preoccupations with size might be of particular interest to you, Mr. Ismay."

"My, God, Darcy, what's gotten into – "

"Excuse me," she said as she stood, stalking away to clear her head. "It's entirely too stifling in here."

Molly grinned at Brock. "She's a pistol, Brock. You sure you can handle her?"

The man in question feigned concern. "Well, I may have to start minding what she reads from now on."

* * *

The sun casted the perfect light against Steve's sketchbook, illuminating all the shadows he had worked so hard to shade in. Against the rail of the deck, a little girl and her father were staring out at the sea, smiles on their faces. His fingers flew across the page, shading and sketching to capture the moment between father and daughter.

Bucky whistled low beside him, elbowing him in the ribs. "Take a look at that dame, Stevie. What a looker."

The blond looked up and followed his friend's line of sight to a girl standing at the railing of the promenade for the upper class. The dress she was wearing was made of the lightest yellow with lacy, white gloves that went up well past her elbows. He watched as she unpinned the ridiculous hat on her head and chucked it over the rail and into the sea. A few riotous mahogany curls had escaped her carefully pinned up do and he had a secret smile tugging at his lips.

She's the kind of girl that had Steve's fingers itching to draw her.

There was less than one hundred feet between them and suddenly she was looking at him with a strange look on her face. He knew it would be polite to look away, seeing as she did after a moment, but he couldn't. And soon, her eyes were on him again in a way that made him seem like he was more than just a broke guy from Wisconsin.

"Forget it, boyo," an Irish man, Tommy Ryan, said from behind him. "You'd as like have angels fly o' yer arse as get to the likes o' her."

He shook his head and watched keenly as a man walked up behind her and gripped her arm just a little too tight from the pinched look of discomfort on her face. Steve felt his chest puff up as he saw her rip her arm away and storm away from him.

Smart girl.

"Feisty," Bucky said from beside him, his eyes had followed the girl, too.

"So it would seem."

* * *

It was like she couldn't breathe. She had had this feeling multiple times in the past month that she and Brock had been engaged, but it was getting worse, nearly unbearable.

Darcy had watched the people around the dinner table talking and laughing as if there wasn't a care in the world as she sunk deeper and deeper into the depression that was slowly taking a hold of her and dragging her under.

Her life was an endless parade of parties and polo matches. Always the same narrow-minded people with the same mindless chatter. It was like she was standing at the edge of a cliff and no one was there to pull her back. No one cared, or even noticed.

All through the dinner, she had wanted to feel something. Something that would convince her that there was more to life than high society and being proper. That there was somewhere out there that held what she was looking for in life. Something that meant something.

And the little crab fork that she had slipped into her lap had been steadily stabbing into the flesh of her arm, harder and harder until she _felt_ something.

But it didn't matter now. Now that she had ripped off the ridiculous pearl necklace that Brock had put on her earlier that night, watching in fascination as it exploded across the stateroom. The black overlay of the red dress she was wearing hung in uneven tatters while her hair was a mess.

But the room, the room could not be salvaged. The mirrors were broken, her clothes in disarray. Powders, perfumes, and oils littered the floor and she didn't want to be there to see how Brock would take it. To see that his little wife-to-be was capable of as much violence as he was.

So she ran.

She ran in her ridiculous low-heeled shoes with her skirt wrapped in her hand. The cold bit against her skin and nearly froze the tear tracks that lined her face. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest as she blindly ran, nearly knocking a man off of his feet in her haste.

The closer she was to the back of the ship, the less people she saw before there was only her. Just her and the sound of the water rushing as she leaned over the back of the ship, staring at the name of the ship upside down.

This could be her way out. The dream that she had fantasized about.

Darcy was hypnotized by the way the propellers cut through the water, cut clean through like it was nothing. Would they do the same thing to her body? Or would it be agonizingly slow? Did it really matter at this point?

Carefully, she swung her legs over the railing and had her back flat against the metal. She couldn't hear the water anymore. She couldn't hear anything but the hammering sound of her heart.

She was so tired of being told what she couldn't do that at least _this_ was in her control. She could jump and no one would know. No one would tell her no.

"Don't do it."

Darcy whipped her head around and saw the man that had been staring at her from the third class deck. His jacket was halfway off and he was a good ten feet from her with a concerned look marring his face.

Her eyes narrowed and she yelled, "Stay back! Don't come any closer!"

Another man telling her what to do. How typical.

"Take my hand, I'll pull you back in."

She shook her head resolutely. "No! Stay where you are. I mean it! I'll let go!"

"No you won't." He smirked and started unlacing his boots. "You would have done it already."

Swiping at the tears filling her ears, she nearly lost her balance and struggled to hold on. "You're distracting me. Go away."

"Distracting you? Honey, I see that as a _good_ thing. It would be an awful waste to let such a pretty dame like you off herself." He shrugged, pulling off a boot. "Besides, I'm involved now. You jump, I jump."

Darcy snorted. "Don't be absurd. You'll be killed."

He was cute. Shaggy blond hair that was much too long for the times, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist. Darcy decided that she liked how he filled out his worn white button down.

 _Dammit, Darcy, get your head on straight._

"Nah, I'm a great swimmer. The cold would be a bitch, though. Nothing I couldn't tough out if it meant that I could keep you safe." He snapped a suspender and gave her a look of sincerity. "Can't have my masculinity called into question."

She swallowed. It _was_ a far drop. And that water looked mighty cold.

"Come on. You don't want to do this, honey. Give me your hand."

Darcy wavered for only a moment before she nodded tightly. "Alright." Relinquishing the death grip she had on the rail, she reached one hand towards him, slightly relieved when he took it firmly.

"I'm Steve Rogers."

Her voice quivered. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Rogers."

* * *

 _April 13, 1912 – Over the North Atlantic Ocean_

Seeing the beautiful girl that he had saved the night before making her way towards him on the steerage deck was something he never thought he'd see in his lifetime. Especially when Bucky was sitting next to him and nearly elbowing his ribs into breaking.

And when she asked if he would speak to her in private?

Jesus, he was up like a bolt.

He was a little mindful of his worn jacket as they walked along the upper class deck, next to her as she looked like a proper princess.

"So, you got a name?"

Her lashes fluttered and she smiled. "Darcy. Darcy Marie Lewis."

Steve whistled low. "That's quite a moniker. I may hafta get you to write that down."

There was an awkward pause, before she started, "Mr. Rogers, I – "

"Steve."

"Steve…I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to be able to face you and now that you're in front of me, I…I guess, I wanted to thank you for what you did. Not just for pulling me back, but making me think, I guess."

He tilted his head. "You're welcome. Darcy."

"Look, I know what you must be thinking," she huffed out in exasperation. Her words came to her mouth unbidden and she very soundly exploded. "Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery? I just…I had to get away! Just run and run and run. And when I was at the back rail, it was like it was calling me. I've never been able to make any choices for myself and I could – I could control it! I could control something for once. And I was so furious. They'll be so sorry!"

"Uh huh. They'll be sorry. 'Course, you'll be dead."

Darcy hung her head. "Oh, God, I'm such an idiot."

"That penguin on the deck yesterday, he one of them?"

"Penguin? Oh! You mean Brock. He _is_ them."

Steve gave her a side eye. "He your boyfriend?"

"Worse, I'm afraid." She huffed out a laugh and wiggled her left hand at him.

"God, look at that thing! You woulda gone straight to the bottom with an anchor like that." He chuckled. "So, you feel like you're stuck on a train you can't get off of 'cause you're marryin' this fella?"

"Yes, exactly!"

"Don't marry him, then."

She sighed. "If only it were that simple." At his look, she elaborated. "Oh, Steve, please don't judge me until you've seen my world. It's crazy and ridiculous and – "

"I'll see it tonight. You invited me to dinner, remember?"

She smiled. "Do you have a penguin suit?"

"Only brought my sketches, I'm afraid."

With belated surprise, she noticed he was holding a worn sketchbook and she plucked it from his hands, intent on perusing.

The first nude sketch took her completely by surprise. So did the second and third. By the fourth, she was more interested in the line strokes and shadows than anything else.

"You're quite talented."

Steve blew a raspberry and gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Those fancy schools in Paris didn't think so."

"No?" _Surprising_. "What about America?"

"Never tried there."

Darcy bit her lip. "Maybe when we dock, you can. I hear New York is the city of opportunity." Her smile turned sad. "I wish I could be like that instead of having my entire life planned out. I…one day I want to be as free as you are." Her feet led her to the railing and she watched how the water splashed against the side of the ship. "Structure isn't all it's cracked up to be, is it?"

"Me and my best guy, Bucky, we came on a ship to England. Not a fancy one like this, but one all the same. We thought getting out and doing things would be like escaping. And we did for a few years, but here we are, headin' back."

"To go home, you have to have a home to go back to."

It was oddly pensive for a day filled with such lightness, but Steve understood just the same. He, too, had never managed to find a place to call home. But this strange girl, with curls and curves for days, made it much more likely that he was going to find it.

It wasn't called the Ship of Dreams for nothing.

* * *

Seeing Steve waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase was one of the best things she had ever seen in her life. His blond hair was slicked back and the suit he was wearing was tailored quite nicely, if not perfectly. He looked a little out of his depth, but he was hiding it well. An arm crossed behind his back and his chin up. Every bit the aristocrat.

"You look beautiful."

Darcy blushed down to the roots of her hair and took his arm gently. "You clean up well, yourself. I'm afraid that dinner is going to be quite a boring affair. My mother and fiancé have a way of monopolizing conversation to show them in the best of light. And that may mean that – "

"I become the topic of conversation."

She shrugged helplessly. "It may happen."

And that was exactly what happened.

When they were all sitting around the table, Darcy's mother was quick with her barbs and sharp with her tongue, but Steve wouldn't let it rile him. He'd grown up with a walking mouth for a best friend, after all.

"Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Rogers. I hear they're quite good on this ship," Ruth smiled innocently, as if she were truly interested in knowing.

Steve smiled broadly. "The best I've seen, ma'am. Hardly any rats."

When the polite laughter died down, Brock pursed his lips. "Mr. Rogers is joining us from the third class. He was of some assistance to my fiancée last night. Slippery deck, you know. Hardly up to par with some of the others I've been on."

Darcy grimaced. Slipping on the deck would be much more accepted instead of trying to commit suicide by jumping off of it.

"And, where exactly do you live, Mr. Rogers?" Ruth asked.

He gave a slight shrug. "Well, right now, my address is the _RMS Titanic_. After that, I'm in God's good humor."

"And you find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?"

"Well, it's a big world. And I want to see it all before I go. My father was always talkin' about goin' to see the ocean. He died in the town he was born in and never got to. You can't wait around because you never know what hand you're going to be dealt next. See, my folks died in a fire when I was fifteen and me and my best guy made a plan to make each day count."

Molly smiled from across the table. "Well said, Steve."

Darcy smiled and raised her glass, "To making it count."

* * *

Steve stared at the ornate clock at the top of the staircase, underneath the crystal dome. Getting swept into this was a bad idea, he knew that, but Darcy, well, she was something else all together. He was willing to risk everything if it meant that he could have her by his side.

He wasn't sure if she would meet him or not, but he was pleasantly surprised when he turned and saw her making her way towards him in every bit of elegance that she was.

"You wanna go to a real party?"

And he swept her down to the third class general room that was roaring with life and music and everything that she had ever been denied in life.

He left her with Bucky after some brief introductions and he was off, dancing with a girl of about five or so.

"So, you Stevie's girl?" Bucky's smirk fell when he saw the ring on her left hand. "Take that as a _no_."

Darcy smiled and took a long pull from the pint of beer in front of her. "Engaged. Nothing concrete yet, you know. Are you looking out for him?"

"That punk's a little reckless. Never brought back such a pretty dame before, though. You a secret princess or somethin'?"

She barked a laugh. "No, not that I know of."

She reckoned that he was pretty cute, too. Big blue eyes, icier than Steve's, framed by impossibly dark lashes and with that jaw line? Good lord, she was in trouble. Bucky was a little shorter, but not by much. His thighs were thick, thicker than the boys that worked on the railway at home. He was…a very nice looking man, she decided.

"Well, you're pretty as a picture. Might as well have Stevie draw ya so he can remember what ya look like when this ship docks." He grinned and knocked back his beer. "If ya weren't sweet on that big lug, I'd be linin' up to take his place."

Darcy giggled and pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. "I'll keep that in mind, _James_."

"Lord have mercy, you're usin' my Christian name. You'll be the death of me, angel."

Steve watched the exchange with a sly grin on his face. Bucky was a good guy that always had a bad stroke of luck when it came to making women stick. They were good for a night, but always left in the morning. Granted, Steve never wanted a girl to stick. He was content to find his happiness in the arms of a stranger and go his separate way. But Darcy was a little different.

He found that he actually _wanted_ her to stick. Wanted her for more than just a night or two or three. And he only had until the ship docked to convince her to leave with him instead of that bastard she called her fiancé.

Moving the little girl off of his feet, he crouched down and smiled at her. "I'm gonna dance with her now, okay? You're still my best girl, Cora."

The little girl nodded shakily and went to find her father as Steve made his way to the ramshackle table that the two most important people in his life were occupying. "Mind if I steal her for a while, Buck?"

His best friend gave him a once over and nodded. "Just be careful, Stevie. If you muck this up, I'm gonna steal her from ya."

"You're the only one I trust to take care o' her."

Steve pulled Darcy out to the floor with a flourish of his arm. Her little body shook and he placed his strong hand at the small of her back while he took her hand.

"I don't know the steps," she fretted, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Just move with me! Don't think."

It only took a second for the music to start anew and there were only a few awkward missteps before she was dancing like the rest of them. Only to stop because her heels got stuck.

"Wait, stop!" She bent down and pulled off her shoes, flinging them at a laughing Bucky before grabbing Steve and plunging back into the fray. The music beat faster and faster and, now unhindered by her shoes, she was able to keep up with startling competency.

It was noisy and fast and such fun that for a moment Darcy forgot who she was and what was expected of her. She was able to live in the moment without a hint of grief or anything else that entailed her life. She was able to just _be_.

"Thirsty, angel?" And like the white-winged saint he claimed her to be, Bucky showed up with two beers in his hand and happily handed one of to her.

Darcy accepted hers easily and chugged it in a matter of seconds, giving the boys a lopsided grin at their shocked faces. "What? You think a first class girl can't drink?"

"Angel, I think I've died and gone to heaven."

* * *

"Isn't it magnificent? So grand and endless and just ready for the taking!"

Steve slung his arm over Bucky's shoulders and smiled at how Darcy was leaning over the railing. He wasn't worried that she was going to jump this time. She…she was finally out of her own head and able to see life for what it actually was. Just living in the moment.

"My people, these…snobs that I have to spend my time with, they're such small people. They think they're giants because of their money and status and all the worthless things they own." She sighed, leaning her head against her hand. "They live inside this little champagne bubble. And someday, that bubble? It's going to burst. And they're going to see how petty they really were."

"You're not one of them, honey, it's a mistake," Steve smiled. He walked up behind her with Bucky and they each put an arm on the rail on either side of her. She _was_ drunk after all.

"A mistake?" She asked, turning around and coming nose-to-chest with the two men. "I don't think fate makes mistakes."

Bucky snorted. "Fate makes mistakes all the time. How else would I be saddled with this punk?"

"Jerk," the blonde muttered before seeing a light streaking across the inky sky. "Would ya look at that, a shooting star."

Darcy spun around, nearly falling in the process, and smiled brightly, nearly rivaling the object she was gawking at. "That was a long one. My father, rest his soul, used to tell me that whenever you saw one, a soul was making its way up to heaven."

"I like that. Aren't we supposed to wish on it?"

She turned back around and smiled up at Steve adoringly. "Yes, I suppose you are."

"What would you wish for?" Bucky asked, his own eyes trained on the sky.

There was a beat of silence when she looked between the two. A sad smile crossed her face and she shook her head. "Something I can't have."

Her fingers landed on Steve's wrist and gently moved it out of the way from boxing her in. His brow furrowed, "Darcy – "

"Goodnight, Steve, Bucky," she said quietly. "And thank you for tonight. I…I needed it."

Bucky yelled after her, "Darcy!"

But she was already gone. Through the first class entrance and back to her own world.

* * *

 _April 14, 1912 – Over the North Atlantic Ocean_

"I had hoped you would come see me last night."

Darcy looked at the light tea that was staining her teacup and she tried to will away the headache that was thundering away behind her eyes. The promenade was sticky with tension and she wished she could leave without having breakfast. Especially when Brock was talking down to her in such a way that made her feel like a naughty toddler.

"I was tired," she said meekly, unfolding and refolding the napkin in her lap. "I do hope you understand – "

"Yes, you exertions below decks were no doubt exhausting."

Darcy stiffened. "I see you had that undertaker of a manservant follow me. Again, of course. What are you trying to find out? That I can have fun _without_ you? It's preposterous! How can you – "

"You will _never_ behave like that again!" He thundered, taking her entirely by surprise. "Do you understand?"

Yet, that only fueled her rage. "I'm not some foreman in your mills that you can command! I am a person! I have thoughts and feelings and opinions! I am your fiancée!"

Brock was up in a second, sweeping every bit of breakfast china off the table with a crash that had her shrinking into the chair she was occupying. His hands gripped either side of her chair, his face mere inches from where she cowered.

"Yes! You are! And my wife…in practice, if not yet by law. So, you will honor me, as a wife is required to honor her husband! I will not be made out a fool! Is this in any way unclear? Do I need to beat it into your stubborn skull?"

A surprised squeak from the doorway caught their attention and Brock straightened up with a plastered on smile before he stalked out, leaving her alone and shaking.

"Miss, are you all right?"

Darcy trembled as she stood, intent on helping the maid with the mess of glass. "We…had an accident. I'm so sorry, Trudy. Let me help."

* * *

Neither Steve nor Bucky had made it out of their bed quite yet. Bucky was situated on the top bunk as Steve looked at the sagging mattress above him.

"I wasn't kidding, y'know."

Bucky hummed in question and the blond sighed.

"I trust you to take care of Darcy. If…if something happens to me."

"What the hell would happen to you? We're on an unsinkable ship, punk. Besides, ya gotta convince her to leave the dock with ya first."

Steve smiled. "I guess. I don't think it'll take much, though. She's pretty damned smart." He swallowed. "Just promise me that you'll – "

"I promise."

Quiet settled in the little room before Bucky asked, "Are you going to see her?"

"It's Sunday. The upper class probably has church."

"Well, better pray you get her, punk."

* * *

"You are not to see that boy again! Do you hear me, Darcy?"

Her mother pulled her corset strings tight, causing a gasp to slip past her lips. "Oh, stop it, mother. You'll give yourself a nosebleed."

The strings pulled tighter and she hissed.

"This is not a game, little girl. Our situation is precarious. You know the money's gone! Your father left us nothing but debts hidden by a good name and that's the only card we have left to play." Ruth finished tying the strings and turned Darcy to face her. "I don't understand you, Darcy. It's a fine match with Brock and it will ensure our survival."

Hurt flittered across the brunette's face. "How can you put this on my shoulders? I'm seventeen. I…I want to be free a little while longer before I have to…before I have to get married. And be proper."

"Do you want to see me working as a seamstress?" Her mother asked, completely appalled. "Is that what you want? Do you want to see our fine things sold at auction, our memories scattered to the winds? My God, Darcy, how can you be so selfish?"

"It's so unfair!"

"Of course it's unfair!" Ruth hissed. "We're women. Our choices are never easy."

* * *

Steve grimaced as he tried to get into the dining saloon where the hymns were flooding into the halls. One of the stewards was blocking his path after giving him a once over, realizing that he in fact was not a first class passenger.

"Look, you, you're not supposed to be here."

Steve rolled his eyes. "I was just here last night, don't you remember?" He spotted the creepy guy, Lovejoy, that had been shadowing Darcy since he found her on the back of the boat. "He'll tell you."

Lovejoy looked between the stewards and Steve with a blank look on his face. "Mr. Rumlow continues to be most appreciative of your assistance. They asked me to give you this in gratitude – "

"I don't want money, I – "

" – and also to remind you that you hold a third class ticket and your presence here is no longer appropriate."

Steve clenched his jaw and saw the top of Darcy's curly head in the crowd. "I just need to talk to Darcy for a moment. Please."

"Gentlemen, please see that Mr. Rogers gets back to where he belongs." The money in Lovejoy's hand made it to the steward's and suddenly Steve was being forced away.

"Get your hands off me!"

"Thank you, gentleman," Lovejoy called from behind them.

* * *

"She's a goddess amongst mortal men, there's no denyin'. But she's in another world, Stevie, forget her. She's a closed damned door."

Steve ignored Tommy, climbing over the gate that separated third and second class, heading towards first class.

Darcy was supposed to meet him, but after getting roughed up and shoved down to third class, he was a man on a mission. And, of course, Bucky and Tommy had come along for the show.

"It was them, not her. She's not like that." He glanced around and nodded to Tommy. "Ready? Go!"

Tommy hoisted Steve up to the first class deck before Bucky scrambled up after him, leaving the Irishman behind.

"He's not bein' logical, I tell ya!" Tommy yelled behind them.

Bucky muttered, "Love isn't logical."

On the way, Bucky managed to snag a suit jacket and a bowler hat, shoving it at the blond to help him blend in.

"Thanks, Buck."

"Yeah, repay me by _not_ getting us kicked off this damned ship."

* * *

Darcy puttered along after her mother and Brock, tuning out the way that Mr. Andrews talked about the ship. Until they made their way out of the offices and onto the deck. Where there was a gross underestimate of lifeboats.

"Mr. Andrews, I did the sum in my head, and with the number of lifeboats and the capacity of the ship…forgive me, but it seems there isn't enough for everyone on board."

The man glanced at her thoughtfully. "About half, actually. Miss Lewis, you miss nothing, do you? In fact, I planned on adding an extra row of boats, but it was thought by some that it would look too cluttered and I was overruled."

Brock chuckled heartily. "Waste of deck space as it is an unsinkable ship!"

"Sleep soundly, young Miss Lewis. I have built you a good ship, strong and true. She's all the lifeboat you need."

They continued along in silence, her mother holding Brock's arm a few paces in front of her. She nearly screamed when a hand grabbed her from behind and shoved her through a door, into an empty office.

"What in the world – _Steve_?" Her eyes widened before she looked through the small window and saw her party had left her. "I can't see you."

His large hands landed on her shoulders and he watched how she flinched beneath the weight. "Darcy…I can't just let you go. You're…you're so much more than what you let on. I can't let you stay with them. You're strong and you've got such a pure heart. You're the most amazingly astounding girl I've ever known and – "

"Steve – "

"No, wait. I'm not any good with words. Let me get this out." He took a deep breath and steadied himself. "I know I have nothing to offer you. I know that. But, I'm involved now. You jump, I jump, remember? I can't turn away without knowin' that you're goin' to be all right."

Tears filled Darcy's eyes and she shook her head. Steve was real and here and she didn't know how to react to someone saying nice things to her, _about_ her. "You're making this very had," she sniffled, "I'll be fine. Really."

"I don't think so," he disputed, shaking his head angrily. "They've got you in a glass jar like some delicate butterfly and you're going to die if you don't break out. Maybe not now, but eventually. You're so strong and you can't be snuffed out by them. You're not fragile, honey. You can keep up with the best of them. I _know_ you can."

"It's not up to you to save me, Steve."

But that wasn't what he wanted.

"You're right. Only you can do that. And those people? They're gonna mow you down until you're just a shell."

She swallowed noisily. "I have to get back, they'll miss me." She ignored his snort of derision. "Please, Steve. For both of our sakes, leave me alone."

* * *

Seeing the facsimile of a mother teaching her daughter proper etiquette at tea had made Darcy realize how young her training had truly been started. How she had been forced to learn how to be a good little girl that was seen and not heard.

So, when Darcy flipped her teacup and spilt tea in her lap, it was easy to excuse herself in rush to find Steve.

And, of course, after tracking down to the lower decks and having Bucky redirect her, she found him standing on the bow of the ship with his eyes closed.

"Hello, Steve," she said quietly, hoping she could be heard over the sounds of the ocean.

He turned and gave her a questioning look.

"I changed my mind."

And that caused him to smile and look at how beautiful she really looked. Her cheeks were pink and she was wearing a beautiful gauzy dress while her hair whipped around her face like a halo.

"Bucky said you might be up here – "

"Shhh, come here."

Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own. His hand was on her waist as she closed her eyes, letting the sea air brush against her skin. It was the most delicious feeling that she had ever felt. Steve nudged her arms up and she spreads them wide, feeling the wind more fully.

"Open your eyes, honey," he whispered into her ear and he smiled when he heard her gasp.

"I'm flying!"

Leaning forward and arching her back, she felt his hands tighten around her waist, securing her.

" _Come, Josephine, in my flying machine_ …" he whisper-sang in her ear as she laughed breathlessly.

His hands rose to meet hers and it took a mere second for their fingers to become intertwined in the most intimate way. Turning her head, she captured his lips with hers, sighing into his mouth.

Steve untangled one hand from hers and cupped her face instead, letting his lips relay everything that he wanted to tell her. Everything that she needed to know before she was gone forever.

* * *

"Will this light do?" Darcy asked, removing the lampshade from the stand up light at the door. "Artists need good light, don't they?"

Steve ambled in behind her, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He didn't think that he'd ever seen such a fancy room before, let alone be let into one. He was worried that he was going to ruin something. By _looking_ at it.

She continued walking into the closet, yammering away as she fiddled with the safe secured there. "Brock insists on lugging this thing everywhere."

"Should I be expecting him anytime soon? I need to know if I should grab Bucky as back up."

She smiled. "Not as long as the cigars and brandy hold out."

There was a loud clunk as the safe opened and she reached inside, retrieving a white box. Darcy opened it and slipped the necklace out, handing it to Steve.

"What is it? A sapphire?"

"A diamond. A very rare one at that. It's called the Heart of the Ocean."

Steve thought it was a very fitting name. What were the odds that he'd have his heart and the necklace in the same room, each of them holding one?

He was so transfixed by the way that fate was working everything out for him that he nearly jumped when she tapped his shoulder. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I want you to draw me like those girls in your book. Wearing this." An adorable blush spread across her cheeks and she amended, "Just this."

When had she changed?

A navy silk slip of a thing was spread thin across her ample curves and he could only nod dumbly at his luck. He'd draw her however she wanted.

She smirked and walked to the divan, dropping the kimono below her shoulders. "Tell me when it looks right to you."

And damn it all if his jaw didn't drop the same time her kimono did.

They way she shimmied about the divan and posed herself made him nearly start drooling, but he sharpened his pencil instead and arranged his sketchbook artfully over his lap. The last thing he needed was ruining the mood with a healthy _how do you do_.

"Uh, just bend your leg a little," he rasped out after clearing his throat. "And lower your head. Eyes to me…that's it."

Steve's hand flows across the page in a dance it must have perfected over years of practice and it made her heart race. He scolded her a few times to keep still, but other than that, she was too scared to properly move. It was her idea to be sketched nude, after all. And she just knew that it would be perfect.

Because this was perfect. Her and Steve and this ship. And she only had a few days left of perfect before she would be lost to the life she had been dreading.

* * *

The doorknob jiggling was all the push that Steve and Darcy needed to get the hell out of the stateroom and into the hallway leading down to the lower class. Steve marveled at the white dress she was wearing, tied together with a pink sash right under her bust.

"Come on!" She hissed as she pulled him along beside her. "I'm _not_ getting caught by my fiancée's manservant again. My mother will never let me hear the end of it."

"Miss Darcy!"

The brunette heard Lovejoy behind her and merely clutched Steve tighter, hoping he'd move his long legs a little faster. She was winded as she shoved him into the elevator in front of her and glared at the operator as she demanded, "Take us down. Quickly, quickly!"

The stunned man scrambled to comply as Steve pulled the steel gate closed, effectively blocking off Lovejoy's attempt to get to them. Darcy laughed heartily, flipping him off as they descended.

Steve stared at her in wonder. "God, you're amazing."

"You're not too bad yourself," she giggled back, clutching onto the stolen jacket Bucky had swiped for him. "How much trouble can we manage to get into on a ship in the middle of an ocean?"

"With you? A whole heck of a lot, honey."

As soon as the floor came into focus, Steve forced the gates open and ushered her out, keeping a hand at the small of her back.

"Miss Darcy!"

"Shit, we have to go! I don't know – "

"This way, c'mon!"

Darcy trusted him. In fact, she never trusted him more than in that moment. It was an odd sort of feeling that she couldn't ever remember feeling before, but it was comforting all the same. Even when he led her into a room that was loud and hot and entirely too much.

"Where do we go now?" She yelled over the sound. Her hands were tight against her ears, but she was smiling nonetheless.

"What?!" He yelled back, her smile reflected on his face.

Glancing at the escape ladder that led down to the boiler room, he gave her a smirk before disappearing down. And hell if she wasn't going to follow him.

They ran through the boiler room and he was hot on her heels.

"Carry on! Don't mind us!" Steve yelled at the workers that were busy piling the coal in the furnaces to keep the ship going.

Darcy looked like a dream. The gauzy white fabric of her dress trailed behind her in a way that would leave him gaping at her for hours if he wasn't trying to catch her. The steam around him had nothing to do with the fire he felt racing through his blood at that very moment.

It was a moment that he'd read about in novels and dreamt about at the edge of dawn when he was so close to waking.

It was perfection and Steve knew that he had found his forever in the free spirited Darcy Lewis.

"Steve!" She gasped when he tucked her away in a mostly empty hallway that was lined with furnaces that were happily roaring away. "We've got to – "

And damn it all if he wasn't kissing her. Had it only been two days ago when he first saw her on the promenade? It seemed like he'd known her for a lifetime. And, by the way she was kissing him back, he was betting that she felt the same way.

Her small hand found the back of his neck and pulled him down further so she could properly kiss him. Steve knew she was inexperienced, but it didn't matter. She tasted of peppermint and happiness and _home_.

He pulled away reluctantly and held his forehead against hers. "You're so beautiful, honey."

Darcy laughed breathlessly. "Steve," she sighed, cupping her hand against his face and delighting in the way he turned into her touch.

His lips pressed against her sweaty forehead and he took her hand, pulling her along.

It was only a few moments later when they found themselves in the cargo hold, surrounded by the wealthiest of the ship's possessions.

"Ma'am?"

Darcy looked over and saw Steve holding open the door to a new car and she wasted no time getting inside of it as he took the driver's seat.

His eyes raked in the leather and wood of the expensive car, wondering if he would ever have such a thing for himself or if he was destined to only ever be the driver.

"Where to, Miss?"

She smiled and slid down the glass partition between them before wrapping her arms around him. "To the stars," she whispered in his ear.

His retort died on his tongue as she pulled him over the seat and into the car. As soon as most of his body was in the car, he scooted off of her and moved next to her. Their breath was loud in the quiet car and he looked over at her. "Are you nervous?"

She looked back at him and smiled. "I don't think I've ever been more sure of anything in my life if I'm being honest."

That was all the approval he needed before he pulled her into his lap and devoured her mouth. Darcy's hands came up and tugged at the buttons on his shirt as his own fingers made their way under her dress and he had her laid out and bare as the day she was born in only a matter of minutes. Minutes that truly felt like hours. Hours that he would gladly waste again if it meant she was underneath him once more.

She sighed happily when his hands dragged across her skin, rough from the manual work he had done in order to get where he wanted in life. Her thighs parted of their own accord and he was there, nuzzling against her gentle curls and giving a tentative lick that had her arching her back.

" _Steve_ ," she breathlessly cried out, simultaneously wanting more and not exactly knowing what she wanted.

"Hold on, honey," he grinned, getting more situated and propping her legs over his shoulders. "Christ, you're pretty as a picture."

And then his mouth was on her. Sucking, laving, and licking every bit of her that he could. The bundle of nerves at the top of her sex was a spot that he particularly focused on and as soon as her body came apart below him she realized why.

Steve wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as he came to rest above her, gazing down at how her curls fanned out around her.

"You really do look like an angel," he whispered in awe, hearing Bucky's voice echoing in his head.

"Yeah?" She asked, her breathing erratic as she came down from her high. "Well, I did just get a glimpse of heaven."

He laughed against the slick skin of her neck. "How about we try for the whole damn thing, honey?"

She nodded enthusiastically and his cock was free in less than a few seconds, nudging her awaiting entrance.

"You're sure?"

"Steve, _please_."

His lips slanted over her plush ones as the exact same moment that he pushed inside of her tight heat. Her whimper of pain was muted against his lips and he was delicate in his thrusting, waiting until she was mewling beneath him.

Darcy's nails scored long marks down his back that he would have for days to come and he was surprised when he managed to come with her, filling her with his seed the exact moment that she cried out in pleasure.

His forehead rested against hers as they caught their breath. Her bright blue eyes were sated and happy as she took in her surroundings.

"I love you," she whispered. And a truer sentence had never been uttered.

Steve grinned lazily. "I love you, Darcy Lewis."

* * *

Darcy laughed as Steve dragged her to the upper deck, her legs still felt like jelly. He fitted his jacket around her and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

Steve had never had anyone look at him with such love and adoration before. It made his knees weak and his heart race.

"When this ship docks, I'm getting off with you."

Steve smiled, completely dumbfounded. "This is crazy."

"I know! It doesn't make any sense and that's why I trust it." He kissed her laughing mouth and spun her around. They pulled apart when the whistle started, eyes wide in alarm.

"What the hell is that?"

The deck shook beneath them and Darcy clutched him tighter. A chunk of ice appeared next to them before it began raining down. He swept Darcy out of the way and they backed up as the ship hit the ice burg. Moments passed in increasing slowness before she looked up at him in question.

"Looks okay," he said, glancing at the chunks of ice on board. He walked over to the rail and looked down into the water. "I don't see anything."

"Could it have damaged the ship?"

Steve shook his head, but his voice sounded shaky. "It didn't seem like much of a bump. I'm sure we're okay."

* * *

 _April 15, 1912 – Over the North Atlantic Ocean_

People in life jackets flooded into the lower decks. They looked panicked and worried, not to mention exhausted. It was just after midnight and Darcy had dragged him down to try to find Bucky.

 _"You'll never forgive yourself if you don't find him," she had said._

They dashed through the lower stories, intent on avoiding the people that were rushing upwards.

Steve grimaced as they passed a mother holding her two children and sobbing openly. "It's bad," he said quietly, clutching her hand tighter in his.

"Come with me," she whispered back. "I jump, you jump, remember?"

It took nearly a half hour for them to get down to the room that Steve and Bucky had been assigned when they checked in and there was nearly six inches of freezing cold water covering the floor.

A banging on the door caused her to stumble when she reached to open it.

"Is anyone out there? Please, I'm stuck!"

Steve rammed his shoulder against the door, grunting when he hit and it made no change.

"Hold on!" She yelled, disappearing down the deserted hallway.

The blond stared after her, but kept trying to free his friend. "Hold on, Buck. I'm gonna get you out, okay? Just hold on – where the fuck did you get _that_?"

"Watch out!" She yelled, slamming the fireman axe down against the door, smiling when it splintered under her wrath. Hauling the axe back again, she brought it down even harder, grunting under the exertion. A few more tries and the boys were able to break apart the door and heave the brunet through the opening she had made.

"Jesus, angel, you're somethin' all right," he said, ducking his head and kissing her surprised mouth. "Now, let's get the fuck outta here. We sinkin' or what?"

Steve led the group towards the stairs, Darcy behind him while Bucky brought up the rear.

"We hit an ice burg," she yelled over her shoulder as the ship jolted once more. "It's flooding the lower decks – "

"The water biting my ankles can attest for that," he snorted, grabbing a spare life vest off the ground and popping it over the little dame's head. "You can swim, right?"

"Of course I can swim!"

"Good."

Yelling could be heard from above them and Steve cursed in exasperation before glancing over his shoulder at Bucky. "We gotta get her to the top deck. They're only boardin' women and children. She's gotta get out of here."

Darcy grabbed his coat sleeve and skittered along as she used her entire body weight to stop him. "Steve, no! I'm not leaving you! Either of you. There has to be a boat letting men on, too. Maybe on the other side – "

"There's not enough boats, honey. The sooner we get you safe, the better."

"Darcy!"

Steve pushed her behind him, coming face to face with her pissed off fiancé. He snarled, "Get your hands off of her. Where have you been? I've been worried sick. Your mother has already boarded a boat and you need to as well."

"At least we can all agree on something," Bucky muttered behind her.

"We can have this conversation upstairs, Mr. Rumlow."

Brock glared at him. "Finally, some sense."

Darcy was corralled between the trio, through the throngs of yelling people and crying babies. Her nails dug into Steve's arm as he tried to keep pace with Brock.

"Steve, no, please," she begged. Digging her heals in did nothing as she was pulled along. "I can't, please!"

"Women and children, only, please! Men, step aside. Miss, please board."

When had they gotten to the boats? This wasn't right. In fact, it was all wrong.

"Go on, we'll get the next one," Steve assured her, prying her small fingers off his arm. His heart hurt at the lie that spilt from his mouth, but he had to keep her safe. He couldn't let her be hurt.

"No, not without you!" She whimpered, her fingers simply dug into the waistband of his trousers instead.

Brock clenched his jaw. "There are boats on the other side that are allowing men. We can all get off safely. "

"See, honey? Me and Buck will be alright. Hurry up so we can get going. We got our own boat to catch."

Bucky stayed safely quiet, knowing that he wouldn't be able to lie if she turned her big blue eyes on him.

"Get in, Darcy. It's almost full."

The steward manning the boat grabbed her arm and pushed her towards the boat.

"Steve!" She breathed, their fingers barely touching before she was shoved onto the boat and watched as it was lowered. Her eyes never left Steve's and she felt tears threatening to spill free.

"You're a good liar," Brock said quietly, barely glancing at the man that his fiancée managed to fall in love with.

Steve's jaw tightened. "Almost as good as you."

"I always win, Steve. One way or another."

Bucky gripped Steve's hand tight, offering him whatever comfort that he could, but the blond was too busy staring at the perfection that was leaving him. The girl that had stolen his heart in a matter of days. With her outrageous laugh, her stark sense of humor, her beautiful heart. He was lost. And he was going to go down on the ship that had brought him his dreams.

Darcy stared up at him, but she couldn't hear anything. She could see the steward's lips moving and the way the pulleys were moving as they made their way towards the water, but she could only hear her blood rushing in her ears.

His hand was trembling as it gripped the railing and her heart clenched. An emergency rocket exploded behind him, illuminating him in such a way that she wished that she was an artist so she could draw him. But it would never be enough. Living without him couldn't be done. She couldn't.

"Darcy? Darcy, no! NO!"

Bucky cursed under his breath as he watched the girl throw herself from the boat and onto the deck below with little regard for her safety.

"Goddammit," Brock grunted, chasing after Steve as they both rushed to get to her.

* * *

All rational thought left Steve's head as he ran. His shoes pounded against the fine stone that made the steps, but he was so close. So close he could hear her yelling for him.

"Steve!" She cried, wrapping her arms around him.

He kissed every inch of her crying face that he could reach, pausing in between kisses to scold her. "Darcy, Darcy, you're so stupid!" He kissed her nose, her cheeks, the tear tracks on her face. "You're such an idiot!"

"You jump, I jump, Steve. Right?"

He nodded seriously. "Right." The panic was setting in now. How could he keep her safe? How could he get her back on a boat? They were running out of time…

The ship shuddered again and Bucky was there, looking wildly around. "I lost Rumlow. He was ahead of me – "

"I don't care," Steve said resolutely. We gotta stay on the ship as long as possible. It's already broken in half. Let's get up to the part that's still floatin', yeah?"

* * *

"Grab my hand!" Steve yelled as Bucky flipped over the railing, staring down at the vast emptiness that awaited them if they fell. "C'mon, Darcy, now! I've got you!"

They each grabbed one of her hands and hauled her over the railing, bracketing her in so she wouldn't fall. The ship was sinking fast and watching people fall to their death wasn't so reassuring.

The stern was straight up in the air and, if Darcy wasn't so terrified, she would say that the sky was the most gorgeous thing she'd ever seen in her life. And, most likely, if would be one of the last.

Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's back and held tightly. "Take a deep breath when I tell ya to and hold it right before we go into the water. The ship is gonna suck us down, okay? Kick for the surface and keep kickin' no matter what! Don't let go of each other. We gotta better chance of survivin' if we stick together!"

Darcy looked over her shoulder and nodded seriously. "I trust you."

Her lips were captured bruisingly and Steve pulled away. "I love you, Darcy Marie Lewis. You hear me? I love you!"

"I love you!"

The water rushed to greet them and she waited until Bucky yelled in her ear, taking the deepest breath she could and holding it as she was pulled under.

The ice cold water hit her skin like a thousand knives and she gasped, inhaling as she let go of the grip she had on both her boys. So, she kicked. And she kicked with all her might until she broke the surface of the water, sucking in lung-fulls of the salty air before she was forcibly pushed down again.

"STEVE!" She screamed, water flooding her mouth as a man tried to climb her to stay afloat.

"Get off of her!" Bucky yelled, punching the guy repeatedly and pulling her to him as soon as he was able. "You let go, angel? The fuck is Stevie."

It was complete chaos around them and Bucky knew they had to get out of the fray to have a chance. He shuddered, the cold seeping into his bones as he pushed her towards the nothingness away from where the ship had been.

There were bigger pieces of furniture the further out they swam and he guided her to a large door with intricate designs that had splintered off.

"C'mon, angel," his teeth chattered as he helped her onto the wooden slab. "Get on up. It'll be warmer."

She wailed pitifully. "Steve! We can't – "

"I'm goin' back for him. Gotta get ya safe first. I promised him I'd look after ya, didn't I? Wanna make me a liar, angel?"

* * *

"Steve? Steve! Did you – Bucky, _please_."

The brunet jerked his head roughly, "I'm s-s-so sorry, Darce. I couldn't…I c-c-culdn't find him."

It was so cold that her tears froze on her face and she gripped his hand tightly when he offered it to her. Grief welled up in her chest and she had never felt that kind of pain before. Not even when she had wanted to end it all. How could she keep going when he was gone? When the man that literally talked her down from the ledge was not there?

"You s-s-see that l-light over there, a-angel?" Bucky's teeth chattered from the cold as a stiff finger pointed yards away. "I'm g-g-gonna kick o-our way o-o-over there and s-s-see if we c-can get on th-that boat."

But, the boat was getting closer and Bucky started whistling as much as his frozen lips would allow.

"Is there anyone alive out there?"

Bucky whistled and whistled, a relieved look on his face as the boat shined their light on them.

"H-hold o-o-on, angel. Th-They're comin'."

"Don't let go, Bucky. Hold onto me," she whispered, breathing against their hands for some semblance of warmth. "Steve wouldn't…"

"I g-g-got ya, angel."

* * *

It was the next morning when the rescue ship arrived. Darcy had spent the entire night in the boat cuddled under Bucky's arm as they both shook from the cold. But, her shaking had little to do with the cold.

Her heart was broken.

Broken from the inside out and she wasn't sure if it could ever be fixed again.

And the feeling didn't go away. Not even when they could see the Statue of Liberty in the distance.

"Names?"

Bucky looked up at the bored-looking registrar and sighed. "James Barnes."

They had to give their names. Verify who they were because out of all the people that set sail on the Ship of Dreams, only seven-hundred and six passengers survived. Less than _half_.

"Angel?"

Bucky's voice pulled her from her thoughts and she saw the man looking down at her expectantly. "Darcy. Darcy…Rogers."

His arm tightened around her shoulders and she turned her face into him.

* * *

 _December 5, 1912 – Brooklyn, New York – Rogers/Barnes Residence_

"He's absolutely beautiful, angel."

Darcy smiled up at the man that had taken vigil by her bedside as she went through the miracle of bringing a life into the world. He stared at her in adoration, tucking a sweaty curl behind her ear before turning his eyes to the babe in her arms.

His hair was the lightest of blond, his eyes blue, but that was to be expected of a newborn. But it was the resemblance to his father that left her breathless.

It had taken a long time for Darcy to be able to say his name without bursting into tears, even longer when she figured out she was carrying his child after only sleeping together one.

 _"Punk never did anything half-assed," Bucky had joked._

When the ship had docked, she had dutifully followed Bucky off to Brooklyn and kept his house that he had secured with a little money he had while he went to work at the docks every day. And, during that time, as her feelings grew, so did her stomach and they were both in awe that a piece of someone so important to them would live on.

And they fell in love with the idea of each other and eventually all together. Darcy Lewis had become Darcy Rogers only to be changed in a matter of months to Darcy Barnes.

A simply, intimate wedding had taken place with neighbors as the guests and a single layer cake to celebrate even as her dress was doing nothing to conceal her delicate condition.

But neither of them cared.

That child that his wife was carrying was going to be his, no matter the parentage. There would be time for others, but this one was special. A link that would never be forgotten.

"Steven Grant Rogers-Barnes," she whispered, touching his cheek gently as he cooed. "You're going to be so loved, little dove. Just you wait."

The Titanic brought together the lives of two very different people for one very large purpose.

And somewhere, somehow, Steve Rogers was looking down at his son, his best friend, and his heart with a smile on his face.

* * *

 **I hope you all enjoyed!**


End file.
